


The Last Heir of Atlantis

by Springkink (Zebra)



Category: Man from Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zebra/pseuds/Springkink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth Merrill had named him Mark Harris, had given him a place in the world above the surface, when he had decided to stay with her and learn more about humans instead of returning below and possibly regaining the memories he had lost of his former life.</p><p>Now there's a woman who claims to know who he was before. Declaring him the lost heir to the multi-million dollar corporation called Atlantis. Inviting him to visit what she calls his home. Elizabeth accompanies him. What they find is astounding, the seemingly perfect place for a water-breathing man on land and a perfect explanation for his lose of memory. Maybe a little too perfect to be true. Or maybe that's just Elizabeth's fear of losing Mark speaking.</p><p>Set after the movies, ignores the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Julian Trebusch

**Author's Note:**

> caitriona_3 created [several pictures](http://caitriona-3.livejournal.com/203158.html#cutid1) to go with the story.

Elizabeth and Mark left the Cetacean. Their mission of identifying mineral deposits was cut short by a call from Miller. He hadn't said what had happened, only that they needed to return immediately. Elizabeth couldn't quite discern his tone. It was a cross between his usual exuberant excitement and deep trepidation.

A short time later they entered the laboratory.

Miller sat in an easy chair, two elderly people were sitting on the couch, one of them a white-haired woman in a simply dark red cotton dress, the other a gray-haired man wearing a gray suite.

When the woman saw Mark, she hastily stood up, a happy smile appearing on her face.

“Oh, Julian!” 

She reached Mark, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, her delight showing through the tears forming in her eyes. Mark blinked and stood stock still.

“I thought we would never see you again. To see you hale and healthy is the greatest gift we could have ever received.”

“Who are you?”

The woman looked taken aback for a moment; she took her hands off Mark and started to play with her fingers.

The man stood up, a wistful smile on his face, and he said: “We had been told you had amnesia. Let me introduce us.

“This is Maple Sebastian and I'm Matthew Jones.

“Why don't we all sit down and Ms. Sebastian shall tell you the whole story.”

They sat down, Ms. Sebastian choosing a seat next to Mark, holding his hand as she started to speak.

“Where to start? Maybe I should just come straight out.

“You are Julian Trebusch, heir to Atlantis Incorporated.”

Atlantis? Atlantis was a multimillion dollar corporation operating worldwide. Their markets were related to the oceans. They made everything from seafood to oil tankers. The Foundation got some of their research equipment from Atlantis.

Elizabeth had always thought that Atlantis was owned by several business partners and not by a single family. She said as much to Ms. Sebastian.

The elderly woman smiled at her, never letting go of Mark's hand.

“That is a deliberate misconception which has served the Trebusch family well. 

“If it were known that the company was family-owned, somebody might have tried to attack them or gain influence by blackmail or kidnapping. A crowd of owners is much better protection and if one owner is blackmailed, the others will still outvote any unfavorable projects. The company would not be leaderless should one head of the company meet unfortunate circumstances.

“But, and I tell you in the strictest confidence, the board is only a front. The real power lies with the Trebusch family. Of which Julian,” and she smiled warmly at Mark, “is the last member.

“A trusted confidante of the late Master Trebusch is currently managing the Trebusch estate and Atlantis.

“Once Julian had some time to get comfortable with the situation, he can decide how much of the business he wants to deal with. The late Master had tried to shield Julian from the harsh world of business, because even with the board as a front, there's still the chance that someone will find out that the Trebusches are Atlantis.

“And I'm sure you worry as much as I do what would happen if the media got wind of what a special person Julian is.”

Elizabeth's heart skipped a beat. 

The story seemed too fantastic to be true, but that sounded like an oblique reference to Mark's aquatic nature. His existence was mostly a secret; they had to be telling the truth to know about it.

While gathering her thoughts, she looked at the others. Mark was taking in everything in his stoic way, though he appeared somewhat wary. He had thought once before that he had found his origins, only to have gotten badly tricked and abused.

Miller seemed to be awed and unbelieving.

The man who had introduced himself as Mr. Jones seemed to be content to keep silent. He hadn't said a word beyond the initial introduction, the noncommittal smile never wavering from his face.

The three men left it to Ms. Sebastian and Elizabeth to sort out the situation.

“We certainly understand you distrust us, Doctor Merrill. To know that Julian has such protective friends gratifies us. I'm sure there don't need to be any secrets between us. We all do know about the webbing between Julian's fingers, his remarkable eyes allowing him to see deep down below the surface – and about his need for water.”

She couldn't keep denying that which she didn't want to be true. It seemed like Mark was really this Julian Trebusch. Even it meant that she would have to let her friend go, Elizabeth couldn't begrudge Mark finding his origins.

She hadn't lost him yet; hopefully she wouldn't lose him even if he was no longer Mark but became Julian.

And she was still a scientist. These people held the answers to many questions Mark's arrival had raised. So she asked the most burning one.

“Do you know why Mark is so different from other humans? Are there more like him?”

Mark perked up at that, and even Miller leaned forward to hear Ms. Sebastian's response.

“I'm sorry that I have to disappoint you. Ever since I have known him, he was who he was. I met him six weeks after he had been born. His mother had died in childbirth. The Master never spoke of what had happened. He had loved his wife very much. I have been told that she loved the water, that she had only ever been happy when there was water nearby. She had always been frail and the Master had been devastated to lose her. The other staff members never said anything about Julian's mother being like Julian, but I always thought that he might take after her.

“Where she came from or whether she had family, I don't know. I never met anybody else like Julian.”

Elizabeth felt a stab of disappointment. Lost in his own thoughts, Mark leaned back, just like Miller did.

Ms. Sebastian, who had never let go of Mark's hand, turned towards him.

“I'm so sorry I can't tell you more, Julian. I truly wish I could. Maybe there's some clue left at the Trebusch estate, I never went looking.

“Now, we don't want to separate you from your friends. The Master's protectiveness never gave you the chance to make any friends, but we think you should come to the estate. Live there for a time and see whether a familiar environment jogs your memories.”

After some contemplation, Mark spoke earnestly.

“You said that my … father,” the word came out hesitatingly, “has died. What happened? Is it the reason I got lost?”

Ms. Sebastian smiled sadly, Elizabeth wasn't sure but her eyes might have gone misty as she said,

“Oh, Julian. 

“Your father and you were on a cruise on the yacht. There had been a storm warning. The Siren, your yacht, had been towed down and readied for the storm. Everybody had gone belowdecks. As the first waves crashed into us, we heard shouts outside. A girl had been swept overboard from the yacht anchored next to us. You jumped in, Julian, and managed to find her. The men had just gotten her aboard when a particularly large wave threw you against the side of the yacht. The Master had to be bodily held back from jumping after you when you went under.

“We hoped that you would wait out the storm underwater and would come back afterwards. But you never resurfaced. Master searched every inch of the coast. He sent divers down to search the ocean floor for any sign of you. We called hospitals and police stations, but nobody had seen you.

“The Master searched and searched, day and night. He neglected himself. It broke his heart that he had not only lost his wife, but also his beloved son. He wasted away.”

Elizabeth swept away the tear that was rolling down her cheek. Ms. Sebastian was doing the same.

Mark was more stoic.

“I understand. I will visit your estate, if Elizabeth can come, too.”

Hearing his words lifted a weight from Elizabeth's heart. He still wanted her at his side.

The benevolent smile was back on Ms. Sebastian's face and she shifted animatedly towards Mark.

“Of course, your friend can come, too. Everything will be arranged just like you want, Julian.

“When do you want to go?”

Ms. Sebastian's smile turned mischievous.

“I hope it's soon. The cook will make all your favorite dishes.”


	2. Atlantis

It was three days later that Elizabeth sat next to Mark in the backseat of a Bentley.

As promised, Ms. Sebastian had taken care of everything. A plane, a small private jet, owned by Atlantis had awaited them at the airport. Elizabeth and Mark its only passengers, it had offered any luxury she could have ever imagined on a flight. The steward had offered caviar and champagne and seaweed pralines, the latter of which Mark had enjoyed very much.

The steward had also kept calling Mark ‘Julian’; she had wondered whether she should start calling him Julian, too. But it just felt so foreign to her.

The flight had been quiet otherwise, and Elizabeth had answered all questions Mark had about airplanes and the luxury surrounding them.

After the flight they had been welcomed by the taciturn Mr. Jones, who had brought them with the very same Bentley to a hotel which was even more luxurious than the airplane. Mark and Elizabeth had been given the presidential suite and swarmed by attendants who had taken care of their meager wardrobe and had helped with freshening up for their visit to the Trebusch estate.

Which was where Mr. Jones was bringing them now. They had been going alongside the coast for about an hour before the large white building came into view. Mr. Jones had driven extra slowly, forcing other drivers to overtake them, so they could get a good first view of the estate. They had turned inland then and driven through a forest which hid the estate. Finally they had turned onto a side street. The street was well-maintained, a row of aspens lining the each side of the street, the forest thick behind them.

As it turned out, this street led to one place only – the estate.

An iron-wrought gate opened just in time for them to pass, beyond which fountains lined the way, heading to what appeared to be the main entrance of the estate. Each fountain was fed by a multitude of water-spitting statues. Whales balanced next to marble sharks. Seals where depicted in artistic jump next to sleek penguins. Mermaids and merman surrounded the plumb form of a Neptune figure.

The water, thrown into a mist crawling every-which way, sparkled in the sun.

Up ahead the building loomed, Greek columns holding a balcony, creating a high portico. 

The car stopped right in front of the entrance, a servant already waiting in position to open the car's door for them.

Just as she was leaving the car, Mark lending her a helping hand, she heard the door opening.

They turned to face the door.

Ms. Sebastian hurried towards them.

“Welcome! Welcome! Julian, Dr. Merrill. We are so happy to have you. here.

“Come, don't be shy. Come in. Let me show you around the house.”

Without even giving them the chance to thank the unnamed servant or Mr. Jones, Ms. Sebastian hurried them inside and didn't give them time to catch their breath before lunching straight into her tour.

“We are currently in the main entrance hall of what has been named the Atlantis Estate. The whole complex was built at the turn of the century and has been kept state of the art ever since while still keeping its neoclassical charm.

“The grand staircase up ahead leads to the Master Suite and various guest suites. To our right are the servant and staff quarters, as well as the kitchen and other rooms of necessity needed to keep the estate running.

“To our left is surely the main attraction for you, Julian's Suite. The whole wing has been converted to suit your special tastes and requirements.”

Still overwhelmed by all the sparkling marble and rapid fire explanations, they followed the giddy Ms. Sebastian.

A door led to a corridor kept in muted sea green, an aquarium running at eye height from one end of the corridor to the other, where another door waited. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air.

“Please excuse the smell. The whole wing just got renovated,” came Ms. Sebastian's unprompted explanation.

They stepped through the door at the far end of the corridor and stood in wonder.

The whole room was a giant jungle lake. A waterfall roared without pause. The lake was surrounded by what appeared to be rough rocks and impenetrable jungle. A wooden walkway led from the door they had come through to a point vanishing between the trees. The water was clear, colorful fish and porpoise swimming in it, and yet the water was so deep that the ground remained shrouded in darkness.

“This was my room?” 

Mark had hunkered down to touch the water.

“It's only the first of them. Further on is the welcoming lounge, a living room, the master bedroom and another set of guest bedrooms, as well as several rooms for multipurpose use. All rooms are designed to allow dual use by water dwellers and air breathers. The rooms share an underground connection with each other, the gardens outside and the ocean.”

The fish had come close to nibble at Mark's hand.

Elizabeth was simply overwhelmed. It seemed so unbelievable that someone would create not only one environment like this, but, as Ms. Sebastian had said, several like it, in secret.

It was incredible, if the other rooms were like this, it would be the perfect place for Mark, and Elizabeth felt bad for having hoped that this would just be another scam.

Ms. Sebastian put a hand on Mark's shoulder.

“Go one, Julian, jump in. It's your home and you'll be more comfortable for the rest of the tour.”

Mark hesitated, then looked at her and Ms. Sebastian for a moment before he took his shirt off.

Elizabeth moved to take it, but a young man who had silently appeared was faster than her.

“Let the servants take care of the clothes,” was Ms. Sebastian's cheerful rebuke. She had taken the trousers Mark had just shed and gave them to the servant.

Mark stood to jump into the water.

“Mark, be careful.”

She couldn't help it; she always feared he'd dive down into the unknown and never come back. Especially now that he had found his home.

“Elizabeth, nothing in the sea can harm me.”

And then he jumped in. Smooth and sleek like the fountain penguins, he started to explore the underwater world. Before she didn't have a point of reference, but now as Mark dived further and further she could guess at the true depth of this lake. The lamps from above provided less and less light to illuminate Mark's form. From time to time he appeared to swim past obstacles in the water.

And then, he vanished.

“Mark!”

She called despite knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear her so far down.

She stared into the dark abyss.

The seconds dragged on.

A splash came from behind. She turned around just in time to see Mark splash down again.

He came up again. His eyes glowing green under the overhead lights.

“Elizabeth, I heard you just like on the Cetacean.”

“There are speakers and microphones above and beneath the water. So you don't need to come up if you want to speak with anybody.

“We'll go on. Just follow the walkway when you are done exploring this room.”

Mark vanished back under the water.

“You don't need to worry, Elizabeth. Everything here is safe to Julian. We all only want the best for him. Remind me to show you the photos from his childhood some time.”

Ms. Sebastian led the way, while she reminisced.

“He was such a cute little boy. And always so kind and helpful. Many a times the Master's banquets were decorated with shells Julian had brought up. Everybody doted on him. It was really a tragedy when we had thought that we had lost him. You don't know how thankful we are that you saved him.

“Just for bringing him back to us, you'll always have friends here. Whenever you need anything, just come to us. We'll help you the best we can.”


	3. Life At Atlantis

Morosely, Elizabeth looked at the trees passing by her window.

She was alone in the Bentley’s backseat this morning, just as she had been alone yesterday evening when the Bentley had brought her back to the hotel.

Ms. Sebastian had persuaded Mark to stay the night.

Elizabeth couldn’t even be mad at her for being concerned and logical in pointing out, that at the estate there was a large underwater bed in which Julian could sleep comfortably and without breathing issues, while at the hotel there was only a bed made for air breathers and wouldn’t it be nonsense to sleep in that unhealthy environment, when a much better alternative was readily available.

She had also told Elizabeth not to bother sending clothes or anything else back with Mr. Jones, as they would have everything Julian needed.

When Elizabeth had arrived at the hotel, she had called the estate and had been solicitously patched through to Julian. The estate had an underwater phone. He hadn't needed to get out of a small pool to talk. No, he had a big room in Greek design almost completely submerged underwater.

Elizabeth had woken more than once during the night, her dreams filled with Mark diving into jungle lakes or vanishing among Greek ruins, disappearing out of sight and never returning no matter how often she called for him.

Once again the iron-wrought gate opened just in the nick of time.

Once again the fountains sparkled in the sunlight.

Once again Ms. Sebastian waited at the estate's main entrance, a motherly smile on her face.

“Good morning, Elizabeth. I hope you had a good night's rest and have brought a hearty appetite.”

“Good morning. Where's Mark?” 

She had expected him to be waiting at the door.

“Julian is already in the breakfast room.”

The breakfast room was larger than their main laboratory back at the Foundation. Windows reaching from floor to ceiling allowed the sunlight in and them to look out over a snow white beach and the tranquil ocean.

Mark stood next to the only table which had been placed into the center of the room.

“Good morning, Elizabeth. I hope you had a good night's rest and pleasant dreams.”

He was wearing sunglasses, one of the ten different sets Ms. Sebastian had shown them yesterday.

“Good morning, Mark. How was your night?”

“I slept very well. Thank you, Elizabeth.”

At least one of them had gotten a good night's rest.

They sat down at the table, which had been set for two, but would have easily fit twelve. 

Under Ms. Sebastian's watchful direction three servants served breakfast.

There was more food than anybody could have eaten for a day. Everything came in at least three different varieties. Bread and butter. Egg and fish. Tea and coffee. And that was just what Ms. Sebastian had called food for Elizabeth. For Mark the bread and butter and tea and coffee came in three different flavors of algae. There was even algae jam and six different kinds of algae salad.

Elizabeth didn't know what to say in the face of such opulence and Mark's rather stiff behavior this morning. Mark remained silent throughout, not once commenting on the ingenuity and delicious taste of the algae jam, almost as if all this food were an everyday occurrence.

Maybe the memories of his previous life came back subconsciously.

After the silent breakfast Ms. Sebastian shooed them off into the gardens to “enjoy the fine weather”. There in the shade of a large rose bush they sat down on a bench overlooking the sea.

Mark kept silent the whole time. Elizabeth was just as lost in her thoughts, but eventually she mustered the courage to ask the one question which had been burning on her mind since she had arrived at the estate this morning. 

She looked at him, still unable to glean the slightest hint of what he was thinking, his eyes still hidden behind the dark sunglasses.

“Mark, are you really well? You are so silent today. Do you remember something from before?”

“Yes, Elizabeth, I do remember something. I dreamed about a terrible storm and someone desperately calling for me.” 

His voice was completely flat as he said this. She remembered how excited he had been when he thought that Lioa and Xos were his kind. She also remembered how unemotional and closed off he had been initially, but he had never been this flat. Her knowledge about neurology was rudimentary at best. She had intended to dive further into the matter, to study how Mark's brain worked, but until now there had been so many other interesting data they could gather just from the tests they could do on Mark without needing further expertise.

She supposed it was possible that someone taking a heavy hit to the head would get a complete change in personality over a night; maybe they could revert to their old personality overnight as well. Yet, this new person was neither like Mark nor like the Julian Ms. Sebastian had described.

And he still retained the memories he had made as Mark. Maybe this was just a transitional period as his brain tried to recover Julian and integrate Mark into the mix.

“It's good to hear that you are recovering your memories. Do you feel well otherwise? No headaches or vertigo?”

Mark stood up.

“I have no headache and no vertigo. We should return to the house. It's almost time.”

She wondered at that, Ms. Sebastian hadn't said anything about when they were supposed to come back and it was too early for lunch. A short glance at his hands showed no signs of in setting dehydration.

“Time for what, Mark? Do you need to return to the water?”

He didn't acknowledge her in any way.

“Mark! Time for what? Say something!”

His step seemed to falter for a moment, but then he caught himself and set an even brisker pace, forcing her to follow.

When she caught up with him, she put a hand on his arm.

“Mark! Talk to me!”

He didn't cast her off, he simply walked on.

They returned to the veranda doors, where Ms. Sebastian was already waiting for them.

“We waited for you. It's time. Go to the library, Julian.”

“What is it time for? What's going on here?”

Elizabeth stopped a step shy of the doors.

Ms. Sebastian patted her on the back, that encouraging, motherly smile never leaving her face.

“Don't worry, my dear. Everything will become clear soon. Everything will be just fine.”

Reluctantly Elizabeth followed Mark who turned the next corner without hesitation or looking back.

Distractedly Elizabeth noted the pictures on the wall of the hall way. She thought she recognized one or two as works by Rembrandt and Picasso. The contrast between the pictures was jarring. Ms. Sebastian prodded her on a second time, after she had stopped to stare at a blueprint hanging between these priceless paintings. Elizabeth felt like she should know whatever that blueprint depicted.

“Come on, my dear. Later there's enough time to twaddle.”

Mark wasn't even aware that they were lagging behind.

This was so unlike him.

“Ms. Sebastian. Was Julian always like this? Mark was always more friendly, even in the beginning.”

Elizabeth got another friendly smile and a pat on the shoulder. All the smiles started to feel creepy to Elizabeth; she felt like she should get out of there. But she couldn't go without Mark.

“Call me Maple, my dear. Julian will be fine. It's just a difficult time. You'll see in a few days he'll feel perfectly at home and be just like we all know him. He told me that he feels troubled by all the new things he is seeing, which his heart tells him he knows and loves. He is very relieved that you are here for him.

“So, don't worry so much. Your presence means a lot to him. You could stay here. We have more than enough room and it would make Julian happy. But first we have to go to the library. Julian will be waiting for us already.”

Elizabeth allowed herself to be hurried along, intend to get to the bottom of all of this.


	4. Welcome, My Dear

Elizabeth stepped into the library. Ms. Sebastian closed the door behind her. 

Every available wall space was filled with book-laden shelves. The draperies were closed, only here and there the sunlight filtered in from the windows.

Mark stood next to one of the bookshelves, browsing the books. He still wore his sunglasses.

She stepped beside him, her eyes slowly growing accustomed to the semi-darkness.

“Mark, enough is enough! Tell me what's going on here.”

But Mark didn't answer.

She became aware then that his hand was shaking as it glided along the book spines. She could also see something else: previously hidden by his sleeves, there was a dark spot on his skin.

She grabbed his arm and drew the sleeve back.

“Mark, what happened?”

She couldn't believe her eyes. There was a large bruise and an injection site there. She could feel the muscles moving under her hand. The tendons standing out. His arm shaking with unspent movement.

She had to get him out of here.

“There's something sinister going on here. We have to leave.”

She tugged on his arm. For a moment she thought that he would come with her. He took a step and stopped. His mouth was a thin line as he kept his lips pressed together so they turned white.

“There's no reason to leave us so soon, my dear. We haven't even been introduced yet.”

She whirled around. 

In the door stood a tall, overweight man. If his hair had been more white than gray he could have made a formidable and jolly Santa Claus.

Elizabeth found that thought inane, but the picture still wouldn't go away.

“I don't know who you are, but we are going now.”

Mark followed her another step as she tugged on him.

The other man's expression turned from jolly to serious.

“You should rethink your decision. Mark, why don't you help your friend.”

She simply tugged on Mark, not leaving that man out of her eyes. He had called Mark ‘Mark’ not ‘Julian’.

“I don't know what you are playing at, but Mark is ...”

She felt metal on her wrist and heard a snapping sound.

Then everything turned dull and far away. She wanted to move but her body disobeyed her. She felt an impotent panic rising, her body was no longer under her control. It wasn't reacting to her panic at all and the panic wasn't helping her mind, she had to stay cool and collected, if she wanted to get them out of this.

“Now, my dear. I see you have changed your mind.”

It was as if his voice came from far away through a tunnel, she could still hear the self-satisfaction in his voice.

“The illustrious Elizabeth Merrill, one of the leading marine biologists in the world. You can be sure I fired the guy who overlooked you when I asked for the crème de la crème of marine scientists for my utopia.”

By now he had walked over to them. He towered over her, the jolly Santa expression back on his face after a sharp look he threw at Mark.

“But let me introduce myself.

“I'm Schubert. I'm sure you have heard of me.”

She had heard of him, had typed word for word what Mark had told her of his encounter with this man. He had kidnapped the Sea Quest and countless scientists from around the world to achieve his goal of destroying the world above and creating his personal underwater utopia.

Mark had told her about the mind-controlling bracelets, she had read the reports from the other scientists.

She now knew that the cold band circling her wrist must be one of Schubert's bracelets, even if her body refused her attempts to look at it.

But still, Mark had reported that the bracelets didn't work on him and going by the dragging weight on her arm, the bracelets weren't small. She would have seen it, if Mark wore one. She should have seen that Mark wasn't reacting normal, but rather like the reports said people under mind-control behaved.

Schubert held out his hand as in greeting, watching her like a hawk.

“Take it, my dear. It's what civilized people do when meeting new friends.”

Her body followed the command immediately. She took his hand, he wouldn't let go.

“Now that we are all friends, we should get started. There's a lot of work we have to do. Your little interference a few months ago set me back somewhat. We have to catch up.”

Mark raised a shaking hand towards Elizabeth. Schubert pulled her away and commanded sharply: “Mark! Go to your room!”

Jerkily Mark moved towards the door, Schubert walking behind him, drawing Elizabeth with him till she walked unresistingly next to him.

This was frustrating again to Elizabeth, trying with all her will to resist, but nothing coming of it. She was a prisoner in her own body.

She could only imagine what Mark felt like, hoping to find his origins, only to end up in the hands of this madman. At least he seemed to be able to fight the effects of the bracelet. The shaking was stronger now, his steps getting jerkier.

“That's something you are going to help me with, my dear.

“Figuring out why my bracelets keep failing on him. He's now on one that's a hundred times stronger than the one you are wearing. Anybody else wearing it and their mind would be broken beyond repair, but he just starts disobeying. That's already his second one.”

He rambled on, outwardly jolly and easy-going, but not taking his eyes of Mark and there was a sharp undertone in his voice. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to scream at him, call for help or beg him to let them go, but he had given her no command to speak, so she remained silent as he rambled on.

“It's a good thing I always have a plan B. And we could have been such good friends without my bracelets. If only he had given me a chance. I even build that underwater wing, just for him. A masterpiece of ingenuity if I may say so, and still he wanted to leave.”

The last was spoken with exasperated amusement.

Elizabeth had tried to mentally follow the path they took, but with her body so unresponsive she could only look straight ahead at Mark's back.

As she walked on, she felt like her mind was going further and further away the longer Schubert walked silently at her side.

She worried at the lapses. Just passing a vase that was ahead of Mark a moment before. She hoped this effect wasn't permanent.

The wallpapers had changed design from one instant to the next.

She hoped Schubert would say something just so she had something to concentrate on, something to open the door to her mind.

“Mark! Stop, boy!”

She didn't know what he had done, but Schubert was agitated. Two men had holds on Mark's arms, marching him along at a brisk pace. She didn't know whether she wanted him to cast the control off now or later. What chances did he have while deep inside a foreign building, two strong men at his side? Maybe he intended to pry off the bracelets these two were wearing.

Just as Elizabeth feared that her mind would lapse again, they stopped at a door.

“I really wish I didn't have to do this, my boy.”

One of the men opened the door and they led Mark in. She could see the room through the door. It wasn't bigger than the broom closet back at the Foundation. There were no windows or another entrance but the door they stood in front of. There was only a bench against the back wall. Mark was made to sit down on the bench.

Then they shackled him, hand and feet, to the wall.

Elizabeth heard a sizzling, then Mark jerked as if jolted; he started to fight against his shackles.

“Schubert, you have me! Let Elizabeth go!”

Elizabeth renewed her attempts to break the mind- control, but not even one muscle twitched out of line. Schubert replied, self-satisfied,

“Now, my boy. Why should I do that? I not only get a water-breathing man, but also an expert on marine biology who’s also the leading expert on said water-breathing man. She probably already has many answers to the questions I have about you.”

Mark's struggles were weakening, the physical exertion without water taking its toll.

“We'll see you later. Come, my dear. I have a task for you.”

The door closed behind them. Elizabeth could hear Mark calling for her.

There had to be a way out of Schubert's grasp.  



	5. A Day At Atlantis

“Now, Doctor Merrill, I heard you were the one who saved our Mark. I'm very grateful for that and if I didn't think you'd try to escape, I'd let you run about without the pesky little thing on you wrist. But I had quite a chat with Mark yesterday, before his first bracelet broke. I still hope that in time you'll see things my way.”

They walked back along the corridor they'd come down, leaving behind the two guards in front of Mark's prison, and just around the corner they stopped before another door. Schubert himself opened this door.

“Well, go in, my dear, and have a seat.”

This room was flooded with light from large windows. In front of the windows stood a large wooden desk. She sat down in the leather chair facing the desk. Beyond the windows she could see the clear blue sky, seagulls gliding in the air.

This room was a far cry from the prison Mark was currently caught in, but she was no less a prisoner than Mark.

Schubert placed pen and paper in front of her.

“I want you to write down all the experiments and results you carried out on Mark. Then write down what further tests you wanted to do and what equipment you'll need. And then you'll write a nice letter to your colleague. Invite him over and don't forget to tell him to bring my ship.

“Better start with the letter first, I want my submarine back.”

Mechanically, Elizabeth's hand took the pen and started writing to Miller. 

She remembered now, the blueprints she had seen in the hall leading to the library, they showed a section of the Cetacean.

The Cetacean she was currently preparing to entrap against her own will.

Schubert left her then to write in silence.

A silence which soon became oppressive, the only sound she could hear was the scraping of pen on paper.

After the letter to Miller she tirelessly wrote down what she knew about Mark. About his skin, about his lung, about his eyes, about everything the bracelet drew from her mind.

She had written reports about Mark, complete with explanatory pictures. Reports which lay unpublished in locked drawer. The reports whose sentences now reappeared under the pen.

Sheet over sheet of paper she filled with clear, concise sentences. She didn't know how long she wrote, how much time had passed. There was a clock nearby, but she couldn't look at it, her eyes glued to the paper. However long it was, she hoped someone would come for her soon, her hand was starting to cramp and she was only at the first of the further experiments she wanted to carry out on Mark.

Another sheet finished and replaced with a blank one.

She heard the door open.

“Follow me to the dining room.”

Elizabeth stood up and turned around. A dead-eyed servant left the room. Elizabeth hurried to catch up to him. Soon enough her conscious mind lapsed without the outward stimuli.

“Ah, my dear. I hope you had a productive morning. Come have lunch with us.”

There was a large diner table set for three persons. Mark was already sitting at the table, staring straight ahead. His mindless eyes were no longer hidden behind sunglasses. His hair was slightly damp.

She moved to take the seat across from Mark, leaving the head seat to Schubert. 

Schubert moved the high-backed stool for her.

After she had sat down, he took his own seat and casually said: “Lose the pen, my dear.”

The pen clattered to the floor.

They sat ramrod straight in front of their plates, while Schubert started eating.

Elizabeth stomach growled.

“That's the problem with these damn bracelets. No initiative, only reacting to explicit commands.”

Schubert sounded a bit resigned.

“For future reference. When I invite you to a meal or somebody tells you it's time to eat, you are to eat. So, dig in you two.”

It was as if a thick fog lifted from her mind, she was free to look over the table. There was more than enough food to feed ten people. Elizabeth spied the algae and sea food dishes again. Schubert took a heaping mount of seaweed salad, same as Mark took.

Elizabeth settled on rice with shrimps.

If it had been completely her choice, she wouldn't have wanted to eat anything. But with Schubert's command, she only got a choice as to what to eat.

Schubert interrupted the quite which had settled over them.

“The best food you have ever eaten. Do you agree?”

“Yes, Mr. Schubert.”

“Yes, Mr. Schubert.”

The replies were almost synchronous, their voices monotone. It was unfathomable to Elizabeth how Schubert could stand having mind-controlled zombies around him all the time. It was as if they were robots instead of humans.

“Try the chocolate cake, my dear. And, Mark, the algae pudding is for you.”

The bracelet was doing its work again, Elizabeth had wanted the strawberry sorbet, but with Schubert's command she took a slice of chocolate cake.

After lunch Schubert took them to the solarium. They sat in the rays of the sun. A violin quartet played works by Franz Schubert.

Elizabeth was worried about Mark. She wasn't sure Schubert completely understood Mark's needs. Sitting in the sun like this was dangerous to him. He'd dry out faster and stood a very real chance of getting horrible sunburn. She had written about it in the report for Schubert. With some luck Schubert would ask about her work, then she could tell him that he had to get Mark out of the sun. As much as she wanted to tell Schubert on her own, she had not gotten leave to speak and so the only voice breaking into the music from time to time was Schubert's, who pointed out his favorite parts in the work of his namesake.

Schubert seemed a bit discontent; Elizabeth thought it might be because rendition was a bit flat, but then she'd seen the bracelets on the musicians' wrists, and they played just as emotionlessly as they looked. How often would he have called upon these musicians? How long would they have been under the bracelets' control already?

After Mark's first encounter with Schubert, the Navy had immediately taken charge of the rescued scientists, and she knew there had been diplomatic problems, with not all of Schubert's victims coming from the United States or allied countries. She had made sure to keep Mark out of the documents the diplomats were given, made sure that as few people as possible got to know about the existence of a water-breathing man.

Severing their ties to the Navy had been the best option at the time. It also meant that she had no knowledge how the whole mission had been concluded, what, if any, long term damage Schubert's bracelets had done. She had gotten Mark, she had gotten the Cetacean, and that was that.

Now she wished she had kept in closer touch with Admiral Pierce. Maybe a way had been found to counteract the bracelet's spell.

Eventually the violinists set down their instruments, which was just fine with Elizabeth, since the only thing keeping her mind from going to sleep in its prison had been Schubert's snore.

Schubert woke again. He wasn't in her sight, but Mark was, who let out a frustrated sigh.

“Ah, is it time again, my boy? Well, you should know the way by now. Go and don't try to flee again this time.”

Mark stood up, Elizabeth could see his hands shaking, his fingertips had started to darken, and his face was an unhealthy red. He needed to return to the water. But there was nothing she could do. Maybe at this stage she should just do anything to make sure Schubert would leave Mark in her care as soon as possible.

“These failing bracelets are a real annoyance. I want you to return to your room. Somebody will bring you our data on the bracelets and how they affect Mark. I want you to study the reports and tell me how to improve them, so that Mark stays under their influence till they are taken off.”

Elizabeth left the solarium.

She regained conscious thought back in the chair before the wooden desk.

The sheets of paper she had written were gone; instead, a new ream of paper and the pen sat there. Somebody had just placed a stack of computer printouts next to her.

This was very creepy: apparently, even if her consciousness was sleeping, her subconscious had remembered the path from and to the dining room, even though she couldn't recall it.

Her hands reach out for the papers.

She started reading, maybe in there she'd find a way to cast off the mind-control and flee Schubert.


	6. Finding One's Self

The sun had continued on its path across the sky, and no longer was it completely illuminating Elizabeth's room. She had read for hours.

Some time ago, a servant had brought in tea and cookies. After bidding her to eat and drink he had left her alone again.

As she had mused earlier, she wasn't a neurology expert. She didn't have an intimate knowledge of the inner workings of the brain. But still, she had an inkling how Schubert's bracelets worked and a few ideas she would have to try out on Mark, if she couldn't find a way out of here before Schubert demanded that she gave him her ideas.

She had reasoned herself into reading everything again to make sure that she hadn't overlooked anything which might foil Schubert's plan, while inside she had paid close attention to what she read, hoping that she had missed something which might allow her to break the control of the bracelets.

So far she had no luck.

The door opened behind her and someone turned on the lights.

“You should turn on the lights, my dear. Reading in the dark is bad for your eyes and we wouldn't want anything to happen to my new star biologist, would we?”

“No, Mr. Schubert.”

After that sharp reminder he was once again jovial and said: “I hope you have good news for me, Elizabeth.”

She stood up and faced him, holding her experiment proposals in her hand.

“I need to do some tests on Mark to compare his brain waves while he is under the influence of the bracelets to when he is not.”

Schubert took the paper she offered to him, leafing through them for a moment. He made a contemplative sound before saying: “Your ideas promise faster results than I expected and we already have everything you need to carry out your tests. I wanted to be there for them, but there's other business I have to take care of tonight.

“I want you to carry out these tests on your own. One of my other scientists will assist you.”

His next words hammered as a firm command into her skull.

“You will chain him up when he's not wearing a bracelet and make sure that he doesn't wear the same one longer than three hours. Take no risks, he mustn't escape.”

“I understand, Mr. Schubert.”

“Good. You start immediately. I'll bring you to the lab.”

Another walk she couldn't remember later, they stood in the lab. Mark was already there, chained on a table. Schubert had clearly intended to have her carrying out tests on Mark, even if she hadn’t come up with something on her own.

Mark was breathing heavily, his fingers darkening. He needed water. But her test scenario called for in and out of water tests. The bracelet wouldn't let her suggest that they carry out the former first, there was no need and it was inefficient to put him underwater just to get him out again.

“Elizabeth, this is Joshua MacDonald. He'll assist you tonight.”

Schubert held a lab coat out to her.

“I expect results when I'm back in the morning.”

With that, Schubert left her with Mark and a thin, fortyish man with graying temples.

Usually she liked to get to know the people she was supposed to work with. But the bracelet didn't care about small talk. Schubert hadn't commanded small talk.

And so she went straight to work.

“We will start with scenario 2-B. Give me the electrodes.”

MacDonald’s only acknowledgment was to give her the electrodes.

She attached them to Mark's head and afterwards assessed Mark's general condition; it might affect her test results after all.

Despite the usual signs of dehydration and the bruises on his arm she had already seen earlier, she only noted his rubbed raw wrists.

He had apparently been fighting against his chains.

MacDonald attached the heart rate and blood pressure sensors to Mark, who started to come to from unconsciousness, whether it was from fatigue or a drug, she didn't know.

“Elizabeth?”

Mark's voice was weak. She ignored him, talking to him was not part of her scenario, instead she turned to MacDonald.

“Why was Mark unconscious? Was he drugged?”

“The subject wasn't drugged. The subject appears to suffer fatigue due to long exposure to air.”

There was nothing more she needed to know and so they lapsed into silence. MacDonald turned on the system which would register Mark's brain waves.

While the machine filled meter after meter with the electrical patterns generated by Mark's brain, Elizabeth prepared the test protocol, writing down everything she wanted to do and the condition Mark currently was in.

His condition would worsen during scenario 2; she truly wished she could spare him. He would be in severe discomfort when they got to the underwater tests, but his life wouldn't be in danger until then, so the bracelet didn't allow her to help him.

An hour they sat there silently, Mark moaning from time to time and begging her for water.

Elizabeth felt numb to his pleas. She hoped it was only her mind's way of coping with the situation and allowing her to be rational when she otherwise had expected to be a panicked mess inside. She had certainly felt like panicking during those first hours imprisoned as a passive watcher in her own body, not to mention the terror of finding her mind lapsing while she knew her body was actively moving about, obeying Schubert's commands.

This was her hope; the alternative was much worse. Having studied the construction and workings of the bracelets Schubert had had created for Mark, she knew that those self-same bracelets used on normal humans would break their minds in a short time, completely eradicating the former personality and leaving behind a truly mindless zombie.

She wasn't sure Schubert knew about that effect and that it wasn't present in his standard bracelets. He had more than once expressed his hope that they'd work for him willingly and without the bracelets. He had also seemed discontent during the recital in the morning. It might have been the emotionless rendition and maybe even the lack of sophisticated dialogue instead of his monologues. While Elizabeth was sure that he liked being in the top position and hearing himself talk, she couldn't imagine that he didn't also desired the stimulation of engaging with other unfettered minds.

It was something she could write into her report about the bracelet's effect on Mark, even while she was under the bracelet's influence.

MacDonald suddenly simply stood up and left the room, leaving her alone with Mark. Elizabeth sat rooted to the stool she had sat on for the last half hour, there was no need to move, so she didn't, but Mark renewed his struggles to escape. He didn't try to persuade her to help him, maybe thinking that it would make it harder for her, since she couldn't break the bracelet's effect.

The machine's cadence changed, the lines it drew growing more and more erratic with Mark's struggles.

Dutifully she turned to look at the lines and wrote her first notes on her protocol as to what those lines might mean compared to Mark being in a passive state. She also marked down the relevant point of time on the result stripe.

Mark's gasps grew weaker, the lines she was looking at confirming his weakening struggles.

This would have been the perfect time to escape. Schubert being absent from the estate, MacDonald temporarily out of the way.

Mark was fighting so valiantly, she had to give it another try, too. If his bracelets could fail, maybe hers could, too.

She concentrated with all her mind on letting go of the pen she was holding. 

Her script stayed neat and even as she continued to write.

Elizabeth concentrated so hard she started to get a headache, and then the line she wrote got uneven for just a letter. She was so happy about her achievement that she lost her concentration and the script returned to even and on the line as if nothing had happened.

MacDonald returned then, she stopped writing and turned towards him. He had a tablet in his hand.

“I got us some food. They included that damn seaweed salad again. You'll have mine, too, and I'll take your sandwich.”

In this moment Elizabeth noted that she couldn't see a bracelet on him. It appeared that he was doing all of this out of his own free will. He had behaved as if a bracelet controlled him, but he apparently was just as unscrupulous as Schubert.

“Heh, looks like the fishman tried to escape. Make sure the chains are secure and that he didn't damage himself too much. Wouldn't want Schubert to get mad, because his fish got permanently injured.”

Elizabeth moved to obey his orders.

The chains were still secure around Mark's wrists. Elizabeth was sure that they'd have been able to hold him even if he had been in top condition.

His scraped wrists would need attention.

She was about to move away, when Mark's fingers snagged on her bracelet.

There was a click.


	7. Leaving Atlantis

Elizabeth felt a jolt. She hovered above Mark, her body once more under her control. She couldn't let on what had happened, not with MacDonald here.

She straightened mechanically, letting the broken bracelet disappear in the pocket of her lab coat. Keeping her back to MacDonald, she said without emotions: “Scenario 2-B is complete. For scenario 2-A the bracelet is required.”

“Don't get your panties in a twist, doc. I'll take care of them.”

She went back to the monitors, while MacDonald rummaged around behind her, all the while grumbling about his dinner being interrupted.

He found whatever he had searched for, and Elizabeth heard him turn towards Mark.

Speed and accuracy were everything now. She took the wooden chair she had sat on and whacked MacDonald over the head. He collapsed, hitting the table Mark was chained to before he lay as a crumbled heap on the floor. Elizabeth gave him a quick check-over, to make sure he wasn't too badly hurt. Except for a little bump he seemed to be fine, so Elizabeth decided she could leave him here with a clear conscience.

“Elizabeth?”

Mark's voice was very weak. She hoped he would be able to hold on long enough so they could get away.

“I'm alright, Mark. We'll go down to the ocean. They won't have chance to catch you there.”

But first she had to find the keys to Mark's chains. She went for the obvious choice and searched MacDonald for them.

The first key she tried from the multitude of keys on the ring worked for all four chains. Mark tried to sit up, but he barely kept himself from falling off the table. He was too weak; they'd never manage to get out with him like this.

“Come on, Mark. I'll help you over to the basin.”

While Mark lay down in the basin which had been supposed to become part of the test, Elizabeth heaved MacDonald onto the table and chained him up. No sense in letting him rise an alert when he woke. Afterwards Elizabeth busied herself with destroying the data they had just gathered on Mark. The magnetic tapes were easily turned into useless plastic ribbons, but the paper stripes she cut into pieces as small as she could.

Eventually a splashing sound announced that Mark felt fit enough for their flight.

She met Mark halfway to the door. He was dripping water onto the floor, but he looked a lot better now.

“How are you, Mark? Do you need more time?”

She could not help but worry.

“I'm fine now, Elizabeth. The water refreshed me.”

“Then let’s get out of here, before someone comes looking for us. We'll go down to the ocean. I only hope we can find a way out of this mansion.”

Mark started to smile and then seemed to think better of it, maybe he remembered the ever-smiling Ms. Sebastian.

“I do know the way out. I overheard some of the scientists talk last night. There's a back door in this part of the building.”

“That's great.”

Elizabeth opened the door slightly and stood a moment to listen for any kind of sound, but everything remained silent, so she let Mark pass to lead the way. 

They walked at a brisk pace, trying to remain quiet and still listening, in case they could hear footsteps. They followed the hallway, which seemed to wind back the way it came. 

Finally, they came upon a set of stairs. There was another door at their end.

When they opened the door, fresh air greeted them.

Night had fallen and no moon hung in the cloudless sky.

This was easier than she'd expected.

“I was never so happy to see Ursa Major.”

“Elizabeth, there's no bear here.”

It was only too good to hear the naïve confusion back in Mark's voice. She shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if Schubert had gotten them under the influence of his bracelets for a longer period. They had to get away from that madman as far as possible. She could wonder at Mark understanding Latin later.

“I'll explain later.”

The door they had left through was facing parallel to the beach. Just as they turned towards the rushing sound of the ocean, lights came on at the seaside, basking the beach in bright light. People started running down from the house. There was shouting, but she couldn't hear what was being said. The distance was too great.

“Elizabeth, they are searching for us.”

This was faster than she'd expected.

“They must have found MacDonald.”

There was only one way out now.

“Come. Maybe we stand a chance through the forest. There's the street beyond it.”

They ran towards that forbidding darkness.

Luck hadn't completely left them. By the sounds of it, the search was still concentrating on the seaside. They managed to get through the well-kept park without being seen, despite the spindly trees offering sparse cover. Then their flight was brought up short. She had forgotten about the fence which surrounded the estate. They'd have to find a door or something. 

Elizabeth looked up. Maybe they could climb it.

But Mark proved that the fence was no obstacle to him. The metal gave a tortured squeal as Mark bent it.

“Elizabeth, go!”

He sounded winded, the short dip in the tank had rejuvenated him, but the stress and being on land were taking their toll again. She only hoped he'd hold out long enough.

She managed to easily get through the hole now in the fence. Mark was a tighter fit, but with her help, he managed to get through as well.

And then they were in the woods, where the illumination was almost nonexistent.

“Be careful where you go, Mark. It's very easy to trip in this darkness.”

“Elizabeth, I can see in the dark.”

She hadn't thought about his vision in the dark in terms of it working on land, too. She hadn't thought to test this so far. But indeed, his eyes glowed a light green and once again he led the way. She should have expected that.

They ran, Mark picking a way which was flat enough so he didn't have to shout a warning every time there was a root in their path.

Soon enough, they got slower and slower, Mark's calls growing weaker and weaker.

“Mark, why don't you lean on me?”

He hesitated for a moment, but then he put an arm over Elizabeth's shoulder, she put an arm around his waist to steady him.

Slowly they went on. Mark tried to keep his weight off Elizabeth as much as he could, yet in time Elizabeth felt more and more weight settling on her shoulders. He had fallen silent, too, no longer warning her of roots and shrubbery in her path.

She trudged on and on.

All she could hear was her own labored gasping, her legs were burning and she felt bone-deep tired. But still she struggled onwards, Mark a dead weight across her shoulders.

She didn't even know whether he was still alive. She knew only that if she stopped, she'd never go on. There was only one thing that mattered now: reaching the street. She could see the lights of the cars whizzing by through the trees and fancied that she could hear the roar of engines over the rattle of her lungs and the rush of blood in her ears.

Every step she took was careful and deliberate; she had nearly killed Mark once before with a misplaced step, back when these aliens had him under their control. She wouldn't misstep again.

Every step she took was slower.

She was going towards the twinkling lights, hoping that they were cars on the street and not Schubert's men searching for them. 

Elizabeth snagged her foot on a root and stumbled, Mark's weight nearly bringing her down. Standing still for a moment she tried to catch her breath, but she only felt worse.

The cold of the night was trying to seep into her over-heated legs. She could feel her muscles starting to lock up. She had to go on or she would never take another step. On and on she went, step after step, without thinking about anything but each vital next step and keeping a grip on Mark.

The car lights were closer now, illuminating fewer trees, making it easier for Elizabeth to see the forest floor.

Step by labored step she trudged on. Her legs felt numb. She didn't dare to hope to escape Schubert. She feared to find herself back with another of Schubert's bracelets on her wrist, her thoughts heavy and hidden behind an impenetrable fog, the terror of a mind caught in a cage it couldn't even see or grasp.

Another car whizzed by. She could hear the engine over the roar of her blood and the wheezing of her breath. She had seen the gray band of the street itself. 

A few more steps.

She could manage them.

She had to manage them.

They would make it.

And then the lights were gone, there were no more cars.

Darkness surrounded them. Elizabeth couldn't see anything. It was as if the whole world had been consumed and nothing except her and Mark existed anymore. 

Her foot caught on something. 

She lost her balance, let go of Mark with one hand.

Desperately grasped him with the other. 

She tried to buffer their fall, but they still went down hard. Her hand scraped across stones and roots.

She lay there, somewhat stunned for a few moments. The forest appeared deadly silent to her. She still could only hear her own labored gasps. She knew then that she wouldn't be able to get up again. Her energy was spent; her body had nothing left to give. Her fingers were cramped, clawing at Mark's clothes, clutching him to her. She could feel him breathe then, feebly trying to get the much needed oxygen from the air.

He was still alive at least. She had feared him dead already.

Laying there in the darkness her mind started to demand rest after the strain it had been under with the bracelet. 

She started to see grotesques in the darkness, creatures from the deep sea, things that had never seen the light of day. Schubert stood among them, surrounded by people in a zombie-like state. 

There was a light then, it was moving towards them, banishing Schubert and his creatures.

The light glided over them and stopped.

A car door was slammed shut. Beams of lights moved towards them from the direction Mark and Elizabeth had come from. 

Schubert's men had found them.

She had failed.

She could hear voices shouting, but couldn't make out what they were saying.

Someone ran past her.

Guns fired.

She hoped that whatever innocent people on the street had stopped to help them would come out of this unharmed.

She had failed getting them away from Schubert.

Their minds would go back into the bracelet's cage, eventually breaking under its yoke. 

But in a way she was relieved, too. She could stop fighting now. Could simply allow her body and mind to get a few snatches of sleep she so craved, before the bracelet would harangue her once again.

The last she knew was light on her and someone touching her shoulder, someone prying her fingers out of Mark's clothes.


	8. Return To Atlantis

Elizabeth lay on something soft, she was warm and could hear a fire crackling. Her muscles hurt, she felt like never moving again. Slowly she opened her eyes. So far she hadn't had seen this room illuminated by flickering firelight, but nonetheless she knew this room. It was “Julian's living room”.

They were back with Schubert.

She wondered why nobody had slapped a bracelet back on her or left her in another of Schubert's prison rooms. Maybe Schubert wanted to gloat that he had caught them again. 

Elizabeth sat up.

She didn't think she'd be able to take Schubert's gloating.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. Awake again?”

Miller set a tea service down on the table next to the couch she'd been sitting on. The blanket which had covered her slipped to the floor.

“Miller! What are you doing here?”

Schubert must have gotten him, too. She had written a letter asking him to come after all. But he was more emotional than she'd come to expect from someone controlled by a bracelet.

“Rescuing you and Mark. But it looked like you had made it almost on your own.”

He foisted a cup of tea on her; she only pretended to sip on it. If Schubert was behind all of this, this might just be another trick, and who knew what he had poured into that tea?

“Where is Mark?”

Miller drank from his own cup of tea.

“Look in the pool. He should be happy as a fish in water.”

Elizabeth had to answer his grin with one of her own. She put the cup down and went over to the pool. 

There was Mark, laying on a sill just below the surface. 

He appeared to be breathing evenly. His skin showed no sign of discoloration.

She sat down next to the pool and felt his pulse. Normal and even.

Mark hadn't awoken at her touch. Normally he didn't sleep that deeply.

“Poor guy's really out of it. He was in bad shape when we found you.”

Miller hunkered down beside her.

“I don't think he's going to wake anytime soon. Not that I expected you to wake for a few more hours, either. In fact, I had thought about catching some sleep myself. The beds in those other rooms looked really inviting.”

She allowed Miller's voice to wash over her. His prattling was soothing, a bit of normalcy in a world that had recently turned on its axis.

“I think I'm going to have that cup of tea now. You can tell me what happened, Miller, and then we can both think about getting some sleep.”

They sat back on the couch, and Elizabeth wrapped the blanket around herself.

“You know, this whole thing seemed fishy to me. Long-lost and publicly-unknown heir to a multimillion-dollar corporation?

“Nobody manages such a tight security. I figured we had to have heard at least some rumors about a water-breathing man before. So I called a girl I know to ask a guy she knows to do some digging. They got back to me just this morning.

“Turns out that someone really has almost tight security and there's a water-breathing man involved.”

He took his time sipping at his tea.

“Miller, it was a long day, don't keep me guessing.”

He winked at her and then put the cup down.

“Did you know that your friend Schubert is behind all of this?”

She had told him about Mark's first encounter with Schubert.

“Yes, I even had the displeasure of dining with him.”

That 'I know something you don't know' grin was back on his face.

“Think about it, Elizabeth. Trebusch, Schubert.

“Schubert set up a completely legit and successful business under an anagram.”

Surprised, Elizabeth set her cup down.

She really should have seen that and been more suspicious. But she'd been so busy with her worry about losing Mark, that she had never seen the connection between Trebusch and Schubert.

“That's also how he financed his underwater base and the Cetacean. He siphoned money from the company. What Ms. Sebastian told us about how the company is led was correct. The board's only a front, just not for a Trebusch but for a Schubert.

“I tried to reach you, but the hotel said that you'd moved out and the estate here told me some hodgepodge about you exploring the underwater world of Atlantis. Though looking at the rooms here, that would have been a plausible explanation.

“And then I got that letter from you. You started with all my titles and names, the letter was the most formal thing I have ever seen.

“So Admiral Pierce arranged for the Feds to come here. They were after Schubert anyway. I managed to hitch a ride. We came here, found you and a bunch of trigger happy goons next to the street. The Feds got the estate secure, so we got this room where Mark can rest. The rest of the estate is swarming with people trying to sort out who was working for Schubert because of his bracelets and who was working for him of their own free will.

“And Schubert?”

“They are looking for him, but so far it looks like he has vanished from the face of Earth again.”

“Elizabeth? Miller?”

Elizabeth gasped in surprise. Mark appeared over the back of her couch.

“And that's the other sleeping beauty awake. We didn't even need a prince.

“I'll give you the short version, Mark, but then you have to tell me about your adventure.”


	9. Epilogue

Elizabeth sat on the stones, watching Mark swimming in the water. Occasionally he'd jump out and do somersaults like a dolphin.

The psychological wounds from being under the influence of Schubert's bracelets not yet completely healed, neither in her nor in Mark. 

But still.

It was such a good feeling to be back home. High above her the Foundation's nonfunctional light house stood. Down below the Cetacean rested hidden in her dock, awaiting a new mission. And a new mission would surely come. Schubert was still at large, Elizabeth was certain that he was only biding his time to lick his wounds before making another attempt at Mark.

But for now they could enjoy a quiet time and bask in the sun or in the water, as was the case for Mark.

Miller sat down next to her.

“C.W. called. Did you know that Schubert really has a child?”

“Really?”

“Yes, a daughter called Juliet. She's in some boarding school in Switzerland. The authorities are sure that she doesn't know where her father is. They are trying to trace him via her tuition fees. Atlantis isn't paying for those, he has to have another source.

“And while we are at it, Atlantis got a new owner and real board.”

“I wish them best of luck. They have some really good products in their line up and are providing the livelihood for so many people.”

“I wish them the best of luck, too, cause the Foundation is their new owner. That means joyriding the Cetacean whenever we want, Elizabeth.”

“The first time we had to deal with Schubert, we got the Cetacean. The second time we get a bigger budget. I still don't want to meet him a third time.”

Mark showed them another spectacular somersault.

☙End❧

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I thank subluxate for taking a look at grammar and spelling and caitriona_3 form art creation.


End file.
